


Tales Go Ever On

by Illegible_Scribble



Series: 31 Days of Frodo/Sam, 2018 [7]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (goodnight forehead kiss), Fluff, Foreshadowing, Gen, It's not slash at all, Little!Sam, References to the Silmarillion, Smoochtober 2018, Storytelling, but it is fluffy relationship building between Frodo and a little Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illegible_Scribble/pseuds/Illegible_Scribble
Summary: With the Gamgees away on a trip, Frodo and Bilbo are left in charge of their two youngest, Sam and Marigold.On one particular afternoon, Frodo and Sam go for a walk in the countryside, and on the way, Frodo recounts an old Elvish tale, to the fascination and wonder of a young Sam.





	Tales Go Ever On

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags say, this isn't slash at all, but it still centers around Frodo and Sam's relationship and mutual care for one another. It potentially offers groundwork for slash in ~7ish years in-universe time (when Sam would be an adult, by human standards), but today is _not_ that day. Only fluffy storytelling and a goodnight kiss on the forehead.  
>  Based on [this prompt](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/132744) for Smoochtober 2018, #7: Kiss on the Forehead.

“Now, you rascals just make sure you're back before moonrise, mm?” Bilbo called out the front door of Bag End, as two of his charges sauntered down the Hill lane.

Frodo and Sam both turned back and waved, and Frodo called, “I promise, Uncle!”

“Hold him to that, Sam my lad!” cried Bilbo in turn, smiling as he put his hands on his hips.

Marigold Gamgee peeked out from behind him, then, and called down to her older brother, “An' you behave yerself, Sam, or I'll tell Mam an' the Gaffer!”

Sam took the threat more seriously than other older brothers might, flushing and waving back to his sister. “I won't give Mister Frodo no nevermind, Mari!”

“Better not!” she cried, claiming the last word as the four of them offered final waves to one another, and Frodo and Sam grew smaller as they made their way down the Hill.

The majority of the Gamgees were away up in Tighfield, and for the trip they found it easiest to leave their littlest behind, and responsibly, Bilbo – and thus by extension, Frodo – agreed to watch over them. Bilbo had been acting Frodo's guardian – officially – for two years now, to no particular travesties, and now he was feeling rather confident at this 'parenting' thing.

For the afternoon, Frodo was taking Sam out on a romp around the Hill, while Bilbo was minding after Marigold and continuing her reading and writing lessons.

“Well Sam, we've the day to ourselves. Anywhere you'd like to go, or anything you'd like to do?” asked Frodo of his charge.

Sam thoughtfully ruffled his hair. “I ain't thought too much about it, Fr- Mister Frodo. Mayhap down to th' creek, then up t'wards Bindbale Wood? I ain't never been up there proper, only seen it a little ways from Overhill.”

Frodo nodded, and steered their course eastwards, lining up with Bilbo's old walking path to Budgeford. “As you like, Sam – and for today you don't have to call me 'Mister'.”

“You won't go tellin' Mari, then? Th' Gaffer gets after me t'make sure I do.”

Frodo crossed his heart. “I promise. Neither Mari nor your Gaffer will hear of it.”

Sam did not all together look convinced – he was still just within the age when he was quite sure his parents (and even Bilbo) were omniscient. However, he did refer to Frodo without any 'Mister's or 'Sir's for the rest of the day.

The path they followed led them down the eastern side of the Hill until they struck a more proper path, and passed several smials where they waved hello to what hobbits they saw. On their way, they received a few suggestions that they could be at work in their gardens or out doing shopping for the family, to which Frodo simply replied – quite cheerfully, “It's on tomorrow's to-do list.”

“You're awful brave.” Sam said after a time, once they'd passed out of the neighborhood and fields of wildflowers opened up on either side of the lane.

Frodo chuckled and shook his head. “No, I'm really not. To be brave, you have to be afraid. I've heard such comments so much, I'm not afraid anymore.”

“Is that how it works?” While Sam did believe the Bagginses were (generally) the cleverest hobbits about, he wasn't yet convinced of Frodo's suggestion.

“That's what Bilbo's always said. Do you remember his story about the dragon, when he first went down the tunnel to meet Smaug?”

Sam involuntarily shuddered, hugging himself. “Aye, I do!”

“Do you think he was being brave, then?”

“Well, o' course! A hobbit'd have to be brave t'go see ol' Smaug hisself!”

“Well, Bilbo's told me he was very scared, then, but he did it anyway. And for that, he was very brave. Why, did you know he's even frightened of the Sackville-Bagginses, but screws himself up to speak with them anyway?”

Sam looked even more horrified when the S.-B.s came up. “Well, t'is only sense to be scared o' them, but... I'm thinkin' I see your point. If you're so scared you don't do a thing, you're jus' scared, but if you do it anyway, even while scared, you're brave, aye?”

“Exactly, yes.”

Sam was pleased to have Frodo's approval, and for a short while fell quiet to continue digesting the concept.

As they neared the creek, they tried their hand at a few of Bilbo's old walking songs, and even at changing a few of the words, which produced results that varyingly made them laugh or decide it just wasn't good. By the time they were at the bank, they settled to cool their feet in the water and watch the tadpoles swimming to and fro.

Soon after, Frodo spotted an old oak tree near at hand, leaning over the river and offering shade from the sun, and he proposed they break for tea. Sam, being a sensible and healthy hobbit, did not refuse, and helped Frodo empty the contents of the basket he'd brought with them. Included was a blanket, several sandwiches – and unexpectedly, a blueberry pie, attached to which was a note. “From Bilbo,” read Frodo, “'Just in case, want to make sure you have the energy to come home tonight.'

“With this,” Frodo irresistibly broke off a piece of the crust and sampled it, “I think we'll be quite well-off.”

Enthusiastically they tucked into their meal, and only with great effort could they restrain themselves and save half the pie for later. They washed off in the stream, before Frodo procured a book from the very bottom of the basket. “I brought this in case we felt like reading something. If you'd like, we can stay for a bit, or go on towards the Wood.”

Sam – as Frodo was beginning to understand more completely – never turned down a book, and with delight took it and turned it over in his hands. “Oh, I'd love to! What is it?”

“It's an Elvish tale,” Sam's eyes lit up like Gandalf's fireworks, “the Lay of Beren and Lúthien.” the name seemed to ring a bell in Sam's head, though he didn't say it was one he'd heard before. “It's a love story, and somewhat sad, to warn you. If that's not some-”

“Oh- I!” Sam blushed, ducking his head. “I- I fancy love stories, actually. As- as long as the end's happy?”

“It depends on your point of view.” replied Frodo, settling down and opening the book, “We could read it, and you decide for yourself?” Sam felt this a most excellent idea, and seated himself beside Frodo as the latter laid the book across their laps.

Sam, of course, was able to read for himself by now, but shyly said he liked Frodo's reading voice better. They came to the ultimate decision Frodo would read aloud two chapters, and then Sam every third.

Throughout their reading, Sam was alternately endeared, upset and scared, by the love Beren bore for Lúthien, the barrier her father set up between them, the terror of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, and the bravery of Huan and the two lovers. By the time Frodo read of the arrival in Angband, Sam was clutching tight to him, fascinated by the power of Lúthien's voice and yet terrified for the heroes. He squealed in fright when Morgoth awoke, and Frodo asked him if he wanted to stop by the time Carcharoth the werewolf loomed over Beren.

“N-nay,” stuttered Sam, “I-I want to see how it ends. It- everything'll be all right, won't it, Frodo?”

Frodo looked up at the sky, towards the orange-pink of it on the western horizon, and the growing indigo on the left. “Tonight or tomorrow, you'll see, I think.” he said, marking the page with a ribbon and beginning to pack up. “I'm afraid I've a promise to keep with Bilbo.”

“Oh... Oh!” Sam was first disappointed, then surprised. “Is- is it that late already?” he looked up. “Glory... You're- you're right entrancing, Frodo!” he said, stumbling out of the spell-bound daze the story had put him under. “Like Lady Lúthien; I didn't take note o' the time at all.”

Frodo chuckled. “I think my spell worked all to well; I didn't notice it, either!”

In relative haste at Frodo's prompting, their blanket, remaining foodstuffs and book were all tucked back into the basket, and they turned back to the path from which they'd come. “I'm sorry we didn't get up to Bindbale today. Perhaps tomorrow?” suggested Frodo.

Sam struggled to stifle a yawn, and rubbed his eyes. “T'ain't a thing to be sorry for. Thinkin' I quite liked the story more, anyhow.”

“I'm glad. I like it, too. I'll try to make sure we get to Bindbale tomorrow.”

Sam made a sleepy noise of agreement as they continued on back to Bag End – and the nearer they drew, the drowsier Sam became, prompting Frodo to take his hand, in the event he might need to catch Sam. After a near-stumble and Sam's profuse apology, Frodo said, “How about I carry you pig-a-back the rest of the way? I had good practice with my cousins; I think I could manage you.”

“Oh- you needn't-”

“-No, but if you'd like it, I'd like to do it.”

Sam stood, knotting and unknotting his fingers as he thought. Feeling another yawn coming on, he gave in. “W-well, if it really weren't too much trouble...”

“For you?” asked Frodo, already kneeling down, “Never.”

Sam scrabbled onto his back, and with a heft, Frodo lifted him, fighting furiously to keep his balance. Sam was heavier than he'd expected, but nothing he couldn't manage. “You all right?” Sam asked over his shoulder.

“Of course,” Frodo replied confidently, “I don't think you're any heavier to me than Lúthien was to Huan.”

Sam buried his face in Frodo's shoulder, blushing furiously at being compared to the fairest of all the Elves. “If you're certain...”

“I am.”

So it was Frodo carried Sam the rest of the way back to Bag End, which wasn't a terribly long way. Near to the end of their journey, when Sam had woken again from a doze, Frodo smiled to himself and thought aloud, “Someday, perhaps you'll be able to give me pig-a-back rides, Sam.”

This roused Sam a bit more from his nodding. “D'you really think so? You are awful tall.”

“For now, but your Gaffer is quite a sturdy hobbit, and I'm not so heavy as say, Fatty Bolger. I think you'll grow up to be big and strong, and you could give me rides if you wanted to.”

“O' course,” Sam began to slip off to sleep again, “I'll carry you as far as you like, Frodo.”

“I don't think that will be terrifically far, but thank you, Samwise.”

Sam only murmured something in his sleep.

 

–

 

When they finally returned to Bag End, Bilbo informed them they were a bit tardy, but dinner hadn't yet begun, so they'd not really missed anything. Sam – as any hobbit would – woke up plenty enough for dinner, to the point of asking Frodo if they could finish the story before bedtime.

After dinner and wash-up, Frodo and Sam settled into the room the latter was staying in, the former sitting in an armchair beside the bed, Sam settled on it.

In this way, Frodo read the conclusion of Beren Erchamion and Lúthien Tinúviel; of the loss of Beren's hand to Carcharoth, the return to Doriath, and Thingol's blessing of marriage. Sam cried as Huan and Beren both fell Carcharoth in the Hunt, and Lúthien then passed of grief. Afterwards, his little hands turned white at the knuckles when he gripped his stuffed bear, Beorn, hearing the inexorable Mandos brought to pity, for the first and only time.

Sam buried his nose in Beorn's fur, but kept his eyes affixed to Frodo, as he was told of Lúthien's choice to surrender her immortality, and live a mortal life at Beren's side. “They dwelt ever more in Ossiriand, and bore to the world a son. Neither the time nor place of their deaths were ever known, yet it is believed the life they shared was full of grief no more, and only love.”

Sam wiped his tears with one of Beorn's paws. “An'- an' that's the end? They lived happily ever after, 'til the end of their days?”

Frodo closed the book and nodded. “I believe their end was happy, yes. Lúthien was given the Nauglamír – the necklace that held the Silmaril she and Beren had taken – and it made Ossiriand the brightest and most beautiful of all places in Middle-earth.” Sam began to settle, and Frodo rose to tuck him in. “But it doesn't all together end there. Their son, Dior, inherited it when they died, and it in turn passed to his daughter, Elwing. She gave it to her husband, Eärendil the Mariner, and after they plead with the Valar to battle the Dark Lord, Eärendil and the Silmaril were placed in his ship to sail the sky thereafter, where they became the star Gil-Estel. So, we can still see them every night.”

Sam was now beginning to more seriously drowse, and his processing of the tale as truth or fiction became a bit muddled. “Don't the great tales never end?” he asked sleepily.

“Why no, I don't think so. Lord Elrond of Rivendell is Eärendil's son, and Bilbo's met him, and you're in Bilbo's house right now.”

This cause Sam to start. “No foolin'?” he breathed.

Frodo shook his head. “No fooling, Samwise. It's all been going on since the beginning of the world. We're in it, too, all of us.” As his mother and father used to do when they tucked him in, Frodo placed a kiss on Sam's forehead to bid goodnight, and gave one to Beorn as well at Sam's entreatment. “I'm afraid our part's ended for today, but it'll start again tomorrow.” he picked up the candle from the nightstand, withdrawing and turning to the door.

“Will our parts mayhap be as big as Beren an' Lúthien's, or Mister Bilbo's?”

“I don't know about that. Maybe not tomorrow's, but perhaps someday's.”

Sam fidgeted as Frodo went to the doorway, the candlelight following him. “Well, I'm hopin' our parts'll be together.” Frodo paused at the theshold to look back at him. “Right enough you're one o' my favoritest hobbits, Frodo.” said Sam, his little face only just visible in the candlelight. “An' I did say I'd carry you, so leastways we've got to stick together 'til I'm big enough. Mayhap our part'll be real big by then, too.”

Frodo smiled, and to Sam he looked otherwordly fair as the light of the candle danced across his face. “I suppose we'll see, when the time comes, then. Goodnight, Sam.”

“G'night, Frodo. Thank'ee for everything.”

The door closed behind Frodo with the whisper of a creak, and he wandered back to his room on quiet feet, shaking his head and wondering what possible adventures could befall two simple hobbits from the Shire.

After all, there weren't any dragons or dark lords left, surely.


End file.
